


Six Months and One Day Later

by Writesomemore



Category: None - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writesomemore/pseuds/Writesomemore
Summary: They say Deja Vu is the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before. But whar if you relive the same number of events for six years and counting.





	Six Months and One Day Later

His skinny fingers traced along the clay, wondering if he could just pull one out and cause the building to crumble. If the building would no longer stand where it was meant to stay for eternity, could faith change? 

His exhausted green eyes scanned the brick that kept the building together. Upward, he followed the uneven courses that broke apart the fading red color. 

He looked passed four rows of windows before he took a step back. Another four windows and he took another step back. The little hope he had left in his heart made he believe that maybe that day was different. Maybe the torment was over.

Several rows of windows up and several steps back lead right to the curve of the street. His back pressed to the yellow car he seen parked there day after day for the last six months.

Six months of the same ending he couldn't change. Six months of never giving up. But that may be the only thing to change.

Finally he could see the very last row of windows. Though the sun burnt skin and his eyes threaten blink away his view, he didn't need to squint. He knew what he was looking at. 

The spec. The black blur. It was her.

He didn't need to look at his watch. He didn't need to know the time. He just knew it was six minutes after four. Every day. Just six minutes after four. Less than one hour before he would clock out from work. Nearly three hours after he asked, 'what was for dinner'. Almost thirty two hours before police ruled it an accident.

But there she was. Like she had done every day for the last one hundred and eighty two days. 

Wearing the white dress she picked out two days before. It was on sale, she couldn't resist. No shoes. No make up. Though she swore no one would see her without. Her hair was braided back. The watch he gave her rested on her wrist. The necklace she inherited from her mother, laid against her chest. She was perfect. She always was.

He didn't have to see her to know how beautiful she looked.

Two minutes later. 6:06 PM. Tuesday, March 12th. Anna Morgan Davis fell to her death. 

It wasn't suicide. It wasn't murder. It wasn't an accident. 

It was torture. 

He simply moved away from the yellow car as other bystanders witness her limp body moving closer and closer towards them. Everyone screamed and scattered in every direction. 

But he took a few slow steps away, knowing in three days time he would he questioned by the police. 

In fifteen minutes the paramedics would show up. 

He heard that indescribable sound and he knew the ending. Right on time. Down to the second. He knew if he turned around exactly what he was going to see. Only this time, he kept walking. 

His best friend. 

His wife.

In less than one week. The very next Monday, he would try to save here once again.

Tuesday, March 12th.

Six months and one day later.


End file.
